“Why, madam, yes! Your Grace will reign queen of the Highland hearts for many a long day yet.”
“No, no, my good Sir William, when beauty goes, hearts follow her like her own doves. I was a queen once. I am an elderly duchess now.”
She turned her sweet face upon him smiling, sweet like a half-faded rose that hangs a little wearily on its stem, but perfumed and lovely still with a pathetic loveliness. Her voice was soft as the breeze. That had been always a part of the Gunning charm. To him who could remember when she and her dead sister had set London in a ferment, twin stars rising with mutual rays, the very sight of her must always recall the time when he too was young and a worshipper at the little feet which earned their shoemaker half a fortune when he exhibited the beauties’ shoes at so much a head to the crowd. Only Sir William had never been certain which of the two possessed his heart. Was it Elizabeth, was it Maria? How could any poor devil tell? Dear dead frivolities, how they warmed him! He laughed a little at the memory and they talked together over places and people well known to both; the perfect free masonry of caste. A pleasant hour.
“I saw Greville before I left London. He does not improve on me in spite of his cleverness and excellent fine manners. A selfish young man, as I think, and cold. I was not surprised Miss Middleton refused him. A warm-hearted girl.”
“A better, more well-conducted, sensible man does not exist, your Grace!” Sir William was eager in the defence. “I know no one whose advice I would sooner take.”
“Yes, on a Greek urn or a question of worldly wisdom or good taste,” says her Grace with her soft, imperial air. “But not on a matter of the heart or of kindness or—what shall I say?—heart’s honour. No, Sir William; indeed, believe me, women are the best judges of such matters, and there I pronounce Greville outside the pale.”
“Madam, I protest!”
“No, you agree! you always agreed with me. You remember when Hamilton laughed at my Irish brogue you would say it was the music of the spheres.”
“And it was and always will be!”
“No—I am always contradicting my kind cousin—I have forgotten my Irish days and Irish ways, I am only a dull old duchess now. But I love beauty though I don’t see any to match—”